


james dean daydream

by Skyebyrd



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Aquariums, Biology, Dressing to Impress, M/M, Strangers to Lovers, Subways
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-10
Updated: 2015-02-10
Packaged: 2018-03-11 14:07:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3329129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skyebyrd/pseuds/Skyebyrd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis is late and meets an angel on the subway. It's not as magical as it sounds. </p><p>Or, the fic where a marine biologist meets an artist and they both somehow become fashion models. They don't quite get it either.</p>
            </blockquote>





	james dean daydream

**Author's Note:**

> This is a combination of the prompts “they wait at the same bus stop and Harry offers Louis the other half of his twix” and “they keep bumping into each other in the subway and start to dress up to impress each other until one day they end up wearing the same outfit” so i hope thats alright!! i hope you like it :) 
> 
> Also, you asked to not have any animals die, and despite how the fic may be going, I kept to that, so please don't worry :D
> 
> I’ve been to Baltimore once about seven years ago solely for this aquarium. I’ve also never been on a subway in my life. I’ve ridden the DC Metro once though, so all subway experiences are based off of that. Bear with me and ignore inaccuracies. Also, I’m only a freshman in college and the only marine bio class I’ve taken was in high school, so apologies for inaccuracies there as well!!
> 
> Header made by the lovely [Naureen](http://reklessabandon.tumblr.com)
> 
> EDIT: I've been revealed at long last!! You can follow my [blog](http://skyebyrd.tumblr.com) if you'd like :)

 

Louis is late. He is so, so, so really _beyond_ fucking late to work that it really isn’t funny, thank you very much.

He’s running down his street, dodging pedestrians and bicyclists alike. His jacket’s on crooked and the sun’s shining in his eyes just the wrong way and he has to squint to see where he’s going; he’s been living in Baltimore for long enough to know exactly which way to go with his eyes shut, thank the Lord, but he’ll never get over how many people live here. Rural Virginia life doesn’t exactly give you a good conceptual idea of just how many people can be packed into one city; Norfolk or Virginia Beach, maybe, but neither of those brief trips to the oceanfront or to Ghent made him realize how densely populated cities are. It wasn’t until he began living here and interning at the Baltimore Aquarium that he finally learned what being a city-boy meant.

At least he still lives close to the water. He doesn’t know what he’d do without it.

He’s still fiddling with his jacket while trying to hold onto his half-unzipped backpack with all the ray’s charts in it when he ducks down into the mezzanine, the sun disappearing behind him as he goes underground.

That’s another thing he had to learn about when he moved here: the subway system.

At this point in his life, however, he just swipes his card over the reader, goes through the turnstiles, and has to fucking wait for the next train to come by because his usual train left five minutes ago. Honestly, fuck this. The bus system here is shit, taxis are practically nonexistent, and he can’t afford a car, so the only option left to get across the city in time for work every day is the subway. But, if he’s just a hair late, it’s gone. This thing runs to the damn second.

He gets his phone out, unlocking it and dialing the familiar number.

“Green green! Yellow?”

“Niall, will you ever stop answering the phone like a twelve year old? Scratch that, twelve year olds wouldn’t even dare do that--let’s go for five years old. You’re literally a child. Preschooler.” Louis rolls his eyes and prays Niall can sense it through the phone.

“I’ll have you know I was already in kindergarten when I hit five years old, thanks. But why are you calling?” Niall lets out a brief laugh, and then, “You’re not late _again_ , are you? Jesus, Lou.” Niall’s laughing at his pain. Mocking him when he’s already in misery. Kicking him while he’s down.

“I don’t appreciate the sarcasm. The subway was just early and I missed it, I promise I’m on time.” Okay, so maybe that was a really fucking huge lie. But Niall can’t know that, Niall drives everywhere on that stupid motorcycle that he and his mysterious, secret roommate share. Whoever the fuck that guy is.

“Mate, that’s a really big fucking lie and I don’t think I appreciate it. I may just reassign you to the cnidarians…,” Niall threatens and Louis blanches. He _hates_ jellyfish and all their relatives. They can keep their weird mouths/anuses and cnidocytes far away from him, for all he cares.

“You have no real power,” Louis says. Well, actually, Niall really does, but they’re friends, so, “Anyways, how is it a lie? How do you know it didn’t just happen right now at this very second?” A light pops on in front of him and he sees blue line is coming up in two trains from now. Great, that’s about ten more minutes wasted.

“Because the trains run on a really tight ass schedule?” Louis can hear Niall grab something crinkly, probably a chip bag if he knows Niall really well (and he does), “Ha, tight ass. I’d make a joke about yours being tight but we both know that your ass gets a bit too much attention sometimes, am I right?”

Louis just stays silent and hopes his disdain melts through the speaker.

“Anyways,” he grits through his teeth, “yes, I will be late. By about twenty more minutes, if my internal clock’s anything to go by. Just tell Liam I can’t help him with the morning feeding for the sharks, yeah?” And with that, he hangs up the phone and sighs-- _deeply_.

He dicks around on his phone for another few minutes, Kim Kardashian-West congratulating him on yet another modelling shoot done perfectly and asking if he’d like to help Khloé in her new fragrance commercial. The station is dingy and old; this is one of the few  that’s underground, which confused Louis for the first few months he lived here because how can it be a subway if it’s above ground the majority of the time?

But whatever, cities are fucking weird. There’s so many people and a shit-ton of cars, but he hardly knows anyone who actually owns one; too many bikes and runners and yet nowhere near enough sidewalk space, tall buildings that funnel wind through them at great speeds and Louis lost a good amount of important paperwork before he learned the many uses of paper-clips. There’s a puddle next to his feet that he’s careful not to step into; he just bought these shoes due to an unfortunate accident with his other pair after he went to visit Perrie at the seal exhibit during feeding time. Bad idea, that.

The train finally pulls in and he walks in impatiently, sitting down and tapping his feet while continuing to play on his phone; he’s lost all of his energy in his game, but he has to finish this date in the next twenty minutes or he’ll only get two stars and lord knows he doesn’t need that right now.

Why is time always such an issue? He just wants one, nice, stress-free day to play with some skates and rays and sharks, check to make sure they’re all healthy and happy, make sure the tank’s safe and clean and the fish are alright in with the sharks and nobody’s dead. Is that so hard to get?

Louis hears him before he sees him.

“Here, ma’am, you can have my seat.”

The train car’s dim in the mornings, safe for hungover businessman and teenagers alike, Louis assumes, and the light is unflattering at best. But, somehow, Louis sees an angel for the first time in his life. He may just go to church for the first time since leaving Chesapeake, as well. He’s probably just been converted right here, because the sight before him is nothing short of a miracle in jeans.

The guy’s standing up and helping an elderly woman, who Louis hadn’t even noticed, into a seat; Louis’ guilt shoots up because he just sat down in the first seat he saw with hardly  a second thought on the matter, and here is this cherubic person offering his seat up to an old woman _and_ flirting with her.

“I’m only seventy-three, darlin’, I think I can handle myself.” After living up north for so long, hearing her southern and, specifically, Virginian accent is a blessing. It makes Louis homesick, a bit.

“Seventy-three?” Louis hears the stranger say, his voice sounding astounded. “Someone as beautiful as you can’t be more than twenty-five, surely.”

Louis smiles despite himself. The guy’s voice, while not having a southern twang per se doesn’t sound northern, either. Not deep south, not midwest, not north. He’s probably from D.C. or NoVA, if Louis had to make a guess. Possibly Delaware, although that’s a bit of a stretch.

Sociolinguistics was a hobby in college, alright? Probably all of his extracurriculars were spent on linguistics and languages. French, Spanish, Arabic; He can speak French wonderfully, Spanish a little bit, but Arabic he can barely ask where the bathroom is. He’s not sure why he put it on his resume when he took only one class, but anyways. They certainly helped him nail his internship down, even if he ended up stuck on tour and docent duty because of it more often than he would like. He loves the schools that come through, but sometimes he’ll get those really rich, pretentious tourists that are looking to somehow spot dolphins this far up north in the dead of winter. Ha, right.

But back to the matter at hand.

The woman blushes and smiles widely as she takes the guy’s seat, her hand in his as he helps her sit down and they chat for a bit.

“I ain’t been flirted at like that in a long time.”

“With that smile? _Impossible_.”

He’s got these amazing curls that brush his shoulders, just daring to slink past them, and a strong jaw; when he smiles, his teeth are so white they’re almost doing a better job at lighting up the car than the dimmed lights. If Louis looks close enough, he can barely make out a daisy shaped hair pin. His shirt is red and black plaid, going well with his jeans, although it does remind him a bit too much of the redneck side of home. He grew up close to farmland all his life, half his family in the farming business, and plaid and jeans run rampant back home. His wide shoulders and big hands do wonders to add points to him, though.

God, Louis would do anything to get his name.

“I’m Harry, ma’am,” The guy- Harry--says, stretching out his right hand to the woman for a shake, and shit, he can’t read minds, can he?

 _If you can read minds, scratch behind your right ear_. Louis thinks really hardly, focusing all his thoughts towards Harry, and--he scratches behind his right ear.

What. The. Fuck.

That was probably just a fluke, right? It had to be.

Just as the woman introduces herself as Sylvia, Louis thinks again _okay, wise guy, I want you to do a jumping-jack_ only for nothing to happen, which is either because the first one was a fluke and Harry can’t read minds, or Harry can read minds but is too embarassed to do a jumping-jack in front of dear Sylvia.

Louis is stuck at an impasse with this hot as fuck maybe, possibly mind reader, and Louis hardly notices when they pull into his stop; his only indicator is a small girl tripping over her pants and a woman helping her up again. The woman always gets off on this stop, even if he’s never seen the child before, and that means it’s time to say goodbye to miracle-boy.

When Louis stands up to go, Harry turns around to lean against one of the seats so he doesn’t fall over and they make eye contact. Harry’s eyes are appraising, running quickly over his messy, half-buttoned, yellow jacket over his blue button-up uniform shirt, the logo of the aquarium just covered, and his khaki pants. It’s not Louis’ best dressed day, definitely, but it’s his uniform, so.

Harry licks his lips ever so slightly and grins at him.

Louis turns tail and practically runs straight out of there.

* * *

“Louis, thank God you’re here, Sandy’s not eating right and--why do you look like that?” Liam’s talking way too fast for Louis to catch up, honestly, he just got here, this isn’t needed.

“Why do I look like what, lima bean?” Louis goes over to the file cabinet and runs through the F’s, then the C’s, then to the E’s, then to the S’s. Sandy is a cartilaginous fish in the subclass elasmobranchii and is a shark. Simple enough.

Liam’s eyebrows furrow together, and Louis sees him pout a bit. He works with a bunch of children. That’s what he gets, he guesses, for basically deciding to work in a glorified water park.

(The aquarium’s really nothing like that, at all, but he heard one of the high schoolers say it disdainfully sometime last month and it’s just kind of stuck).

“I still don’t get why you call me that, you know I’m allergic to legumes.” Louis scoffs; he’s seen Liam eat peanuts often enough to know that that’s not entirely true. Soybeans, yes, but that doesn’t mean he’s suddenly allergic to an entire plant family. “But anyway, you look like you’ve seen a ghost. Or had a really good fuck last night.”

Louis pulls out Sandy’s file and goes to see the last time she had her vitals checked; last night, it seems. She is their newest nurse shark; she’d been caught in a net and had gone into shock, so they’d brought her in for treatment and recuperation. She’s set to return back to the ocean in a couple months.

He’s skimming over the words written in Jesy’s quick, looping scrawl and….yes, right there, not eating properly for the third day in a row. Jesy’s also noted how Sandy’s been keeping to herself more than usual, breathing a bit abnormally. He reads over it again and there’s no mention of any white spots, but he’s thinking marine ich anyways. He needs to run tests on the water and get Paul to check her out closely before doing anything else, though, of course.

“Neither, as it happens.” He adds in, having waited a bit too long, but in this kind of work it’s normal to do so. Louis goes about filing the ray’s charts from last night; he’d had to take them home because they were all out of order, but the aquarium recently has had some budget cuts so he couldn’t stay and do it on the clock. It needed to be done, and soon, so he had taken them home. Sandy can wait a few more minutes to be checked on.

“Then what’s up? You’re, like, _weird_.” Liam grabs a couple files from Louis’ backpack and helps him along.

Louis shrugs; he’ll tell them when he thinks it’s important enough. The guy was hot, sure, and he knew his name, which is weird, but he still doesn’t _know_ him. They haven’t had near enough interaction to just start talking about him to Liam.

“My bet is that there was an ugly guy trying to chat you up.” A voice comes from the doorway, and Louis turns to see Zayn. Despite them all wearing the exact same uniform, Zayn somehow always manages to turn theirs into something from a runway; their newly cut hair swoops down the side of their head, their beard in full effect, their nails painted a yellow that somehow goes well with the pale blue shirt. It’s hot, but Zayn has always had a kind of ethereal effect, in Louis’ opinion; they could be looked at and admired, but not touched.

Plus, Zayn’s ace, so it’s not like Louis could pull them anyway. He’d feel awful if he so much as tried, because he knows just how uncomfortable that kind of stuff makes them. Also, considering they’re his roommate, it would’ve been even worse.

“He wasn’t ugly!” Louis says immediately, and then turns bright red. Shit.

Zayn and Liam both light up in glee, the traitors.

“So there _is_ a guy!” Liam laughs, pointing an accusatory finger. Louis just huffs and turns back to filing.

“Fuck y’all,” And with the last file in place, he takes Sandy’s file, a few test tubes, and makes his way to her tank while Zayn and Liam poke fun at and laugh behind him.

The hallways are white and sterile; they’ve always reminded him of a hospital, just with a pungent smell of the ocean and fish at all corners. The scent attaches itself to Louis’ clothes and belongings and have permeated into his apartment, and he’s sure it’s why his cat’s always trying to hunt for something around the living room. His sneakers squeak against the tile flooring and he turns at a door, twisting the handle; he can now hear the machinery in this room at full sound and it’s always a bit overwhelming for the first few moments until his ears get used to it.

Jesy’s standing on the catwalk over the tank, writing studiously into her charts and talking to Jade quietly.

“...the salinity level’s fine, so I’m thinking it’s a bacteria or something similar and maybe she's come down with something. Ask Lou if she can check on her again sometime today, yeah? Maybe get her down there during the diving show so she doesn’t seem so out of place.”

“We can’t wait to do it tonight?” Jade pipes up.

Louis cuts in. “We need to do it soon because Sandy’s not eating right and we need to make sure she’s as healthy as possible because she’s alive and deserves that. Some kind of bacteria or parasite’s gotten in there; we really need to designate someone to go in and clean the tank every single day. I know we just fired Max, and thank God, but we need to fill in his position quick. We should talk to Perrie about getting some snails in here, or ask CPF for some oysters to help clean up and expedite the process. I mean, we need to make sure it’s nothing that can hurt them, but just to help out with bioload and such once we clear them out for safety.”

They both turn to look at him with smiles.

“Hey, Lou.” Jade says first; she’s their newest addition and is more of a go-for than anything else, but Louis likes her well enough. Bright, kind, up for anything.

“I was thinking the same thing, actually. Not the oysters or snails, though, that’s smart.” Jade scrunches her eyebrows a moment and looks at her watch, “You’re a bit late, aren’t you?”

He rolls his eyes. “I missed the first train, had to take the second one. It was hardly anythin’, and I _still_ get shit, honestly.”

“Whatever, you know being late means Liam has to do the morning feeding by himself and he’s scared shitless of the tigers.”

“Then Liam shouldn’t have offered to help me with the cartilaginous fish, then. Not my fault he can’t handle some of the sharks.”

“But he loves the skates!” Jade says with a grin. “He always get so happy to help them, and he loves showing them off to the kids.”

“Also true, but-” Louis says, but before he can carry on with just how poor Liam is at handling the sharks, Jesy cuts him off.

“Look, we need to figure out what the issue is here. I don’t want what Sandy’s got to spread around to the other sharks here. Especially the new Blacktips; I hate to sound like a dog of the capitalist machine, but they’re our biggest exhibit and corporate’ll have our asses. Plus they’re animals and deserve to be kept safe by us, so.” She glances down in the water again and pulls out a pipette and a refractometer.

“Thought you said the salinity levels were fine?” Louis asks; protocol for all water tests is to do it at least three times, just to make sure it’s done properly and correctly, so he’s not sure why she’s decided to do it again.

Jesy rolls her eyes, “A fourth or fifth measurement can hardly go amiss.” She opens the refractometer after pipetting some of the salt water up, puts the water into the refractometer and closes it, putting her eyes to the lens. She writes down a number, nodding.

“Can’t hurt to be sure, either.” Jade adds.

“Okay, well I’m going to be running a couple of bacterial and parasitic tests on the water. I’m going to take a few samples and get back to you in a couple days, but can you ask Paul to check out Sandy again for me? I know you want Lou to do a quick check on all of them, but I want Sandy tested for marine ich, as well.”

As an intern, Louis isn’t actually allowed to inspect the animals. Help with inspections, sure, maybe even do them with observation, but not by himself. That’s Paul’s job. Proper vet, and all that.

“She doesn’t have any spots, though?” Jade says, although she sounds unsure.

“Maybe she does; all we have written down is that she’s been acting funny and not eating right, so who knows what got in the water. She may be fine physically and just unsettled by something psychological; we won’t know unless we help her.”

“Sure thing, Lou.” Jade smiles, and then the girls turn back to their own conversation.

Louis takes the test tubes and begins filling them with water, stoppering and labeling them properly. He watches out of the corner of his eyes as the sharks swim below him; he sees a few children look at him while pointing and waving energetically, excitement clear and vibrant on their faces. He smiles right back at them, waving just as fast and hard and making silly faces with them.

He remembers his first aquarium trip; Virginia Beach has a lot of things, from sprawling suburbs to artsy theaters to the crowded and littered boardwalk, but his absolute favorite thing in the whole city, aside from the actual beach, is the aquarium. It’s right on the way to the boardwalk, the brackish water of the marshes and rivers right there, and he’d loved the fact that there were always windows showing out to the water. It was where he’d volunteered over the summer, his first internship, and he loves that building; the seals and otters were what he helped out with most, as well as helping out with the Chesapeake Bay Foundation in making oyster colonies.

But his very first trip was what changed his life, he’s sure.

He remembers not wanting to go at first; his mother had mentioned Ocean Breeze theme park to Mark, and Louis had been so convinced that was where they were going and he’d immediately run upstairs and gotten changed into his swimming trunks. Of course, when he’d come downstairs his mom had just laughed at him in confusion and told him to go change back into his clothes and that they weren’t swimming that day.

That hadn’t made any sense to him at the time; if they were going to Ocean Breeze, why couldn’t he swim?

Now, of course, Louis knows that it was just a location reminder for Mark to go by; the aquarium was a couple lights past the water park. But nonetheless, he’d gotten changed back into his clothes, helped his mom load Lottie and baby Fizz into the car, and off they were. He hadn’t had a single clue as to what they were doing that day, and when they finally pulled up and he’d seen the tall, white building, he’d been adamant he wouldn’t set a single foot inside. He’d whined and stomped and probably cried a bit, even, the brat he was.  

However, Moms always find a way.  

Louis picks up the test tubes, putting them in their styrofoam carrier, and makes his way to the lab. The memory in his mind continues, the smaller, younger version of himself pouting through getting tickets and walking through the marsh and swamp exhibits. He’d refused to look at the turtles, hated how Fizzy was fascinated by the freshwater fish, despised the interactive docent try to get him interested in how grasses keep the environment clean and why marshes are so important.

 _God_ , once they’d gotten to the ocean, though.

The larger tanks with the larger fish and reef displays, the jellyfish in color-changing tanks, the octopodes that were so hard to find in their camouflage, the ray exhibit where he could put his hand in the water and run his hands along their backs, the horseshoe crab he could pet and hold in his hands. He’d asked question after question, so curious about all kinds of things, and his mom bought him a couple of books from the store when they’d left; he still has them, tucked away in his bookshelf, leafed and colored all over.

He’d _never_ wanted to leave after that.

He’d spent his birthday there, spending the night with Stan and his sisters right there next to the shark tank, pretending to be asleep just long enough for everyone else to be asleep so he could move closer; he was fascinated by the way the light played on the water. At one point, a hammerhead had swum super close to him, looking him right in the eye, and that had been it. That had been the birth of Louis’ dream and purpose, at a measly seven years old.

He begins the tests, writes down plenty of notes of what he’s done, and goes to see where else he’s needed.

* * *

Louis has five different alarms set. This is it; he _refuses_ to be late again.

So, naturally, he wakes up to Niall calling him and asking where he is. Louis’ arm flails out to grab his phone, startled awake by the blaring noise that he assumes is his alarm before realizing it’s a call.

“Wha-- Niall, why’re you callin’?” Louis’ a bit of a lot ashamed his accent comes out more when he’s tired, because he can’t focus on it as much.

“You’re late again, bro. Let this be a lesson to set your alarms.” Niall says just before he hangs up on him--which, wait, what the fuck. Louis didn’t even get a chance to _defend_ himself. He’s sure he set those alarms, but his phone’s such a piece of shit it probably just didn’t remember to go off. Whatever. He’s due for an upgrade in a couple months, anyway.

He goes to get changed into his work uniform before an image of Harry comes into his mind; he has no idea why it does, but--

What if he sees him on the subway again?

He doesn’t want to be in his stupid khaki pants and stupid, non-slide shoes and stupid pale blue shirt; he wants to _show off_.

Louis goes hunting through his wardrobe as fast as he can. He pulls out tanktop after tanktop and while he usually would love a chance to show off his arms, the light coming through his shut blinds is darker than usual and he’s sure that means it’s raining out and probably cold. He goes to his bottommost drawer and pulls out a cream knit sweater that he hasn’t worn since--Christ, since he was twenty. Granted, he’s only twenty-two now, set to be twenty-three in a couple months, so it’s not like it’s been that long, but still.

He pulls it on, and it still fits just as it always has; it pools a bit over his shoulders, loose, but in a hopefully-sexy way, the sleeves hanging just past his wrists.

For his pants, he goes with a simple dark pair of tight jeans, offsetting the looseness of the sweater, he hopes. Harry looked like a guy who knew what he was doing in the fashion department and--honestly, he’s so hung up on a guy who gave him _one_ lookover. He may need help.

He grabs his uniform, crams it in his backpack along with his wallet, grabs his raincoat and runs out the door, locking it quickly.

When he gets outside, it’s dark as night with a perfectly clear sky.

The stars are out and the moon is bright. Louis can barely see the lightening of the sky in the distance, a vague, dark blue as opposed to the starch blackness above him.

Seriously, _fuck_ Niall. Fuck Niall and everyone else who had a hand in this. Fuck the asshole who decided pranks were a good idea, and _especially_ fuck the guy that decided to use phones for prank calls at who-the-hell-knows o’clock in the morning.

He checks the time on his phone which he should’ve done before just fucking leaving his apartment, and it’s 4:33 in the morning. Literally what in the fresh hell. Louis’ not quite southern enough for this, but bless Niall’s poor little heart. He hopes it rots.

It’s cold out a bit, too, and fuck the fall. Seriously.

He’s awake now, and he knows he won’t fall asleep again if he goes back inside; his stomach rumbles, then, and he knows what he’ll do in the meantime. There’s a bus stop at the end of his street and he goes to sit on the bench until a bus comes ‘round. It’s dingy and musty in the little covering over the dirty, gum-stuck bench, but he makes so.

As he messes about on his phone (and seriously, fuck Willow Pape for making his life so irritating) someone walks by, chattering loudly on their cell. He knows that voice and turns his head, wide-eyed as Harry sits down next to him on the bench, still speaking into his phone.

“Yeah, so I basically told him--dude, shut up, why are you on the phone at four in the morning? And now I can’t sleep, so I’m going to IHOP. You in?”

Louis feels so creepy just watching Harry out of the corner of his eye, clearly eavesdropping on his conversation while he exits out of his game and goes to text Zayn about where he’s gone just so he has something to do.

“Yeah, alright. Gotcha. I’ll just go to IHOP alone, all by myself, without any friends,” Harry pauses and then, “ _heyyyy_ ,” so Louis can only assume whoever’s on the other line made fun of him.

Louis notices Harry’s dressed very well today as well; he’s got these brown, heeled boots on with tight, ripped jeans paired with a white tee and an unbuttoned floral, sheer shirt on top. He’s got these huge sunglasses pushed into his locks for God knows what reason at this time of day, and a plethora of rings and necklaces, but it somehow completes his look.

“Okay, well, bye Grimmy.” What a fucking weird name. Sounds like death. “Yeah, yeah, get your beauty sleep, old man.” Louis can hear a tinny laugh from Harry’s phone before the call is ended.

Louis’ gotten two words of his text done ( _hey so_ ) and now they’re just sitting next to each other in complete silence.

The time on his phone tells him the bus is about three minutes behind schedule, but when is the bus system not complete shit? (Read: never).

He finally finishes up his text, blaming Zayn’s stupid boyfriend for literally every tragedy to ever face the earth in its entire history, and he thinks the text is a resounding success.

There’s a crinkling sound next to him, and Louis looks over. Is that--it is. It totally fucking is. Harry is sitting next to him with a magically appeared Twix bar in his hands, pulled from God knows where because Louis knows those pants don’t have large enough pockets for that thing.

“Would you like to be my other half?” Harry says, calm as fuck, holding out one of the two Twix bars to Louis.

Louis is so sure his face is bright as a tomato, but he can’t help laughing a bit, as well.

“I bet you say that to all the boys.” Louis makes sure to bat his eyelashes just right and smile at Harry before taking the Twix bar. Does he actually eat it, though? He’s always felt weird about eating around people he doesn’t know very well.

“Just the cute ones who stare at me on subways.” Harry’s smirking and, shit, he remembers him. Harry remembers him, oh, Christ.

“I--I didn’t think you’d--I mean, I just--.” Louis stammers. He can’t quite figure out what he’s meant to be talking about, really, he’s just so _embarrassed_. He takes a deep breath, and continues.

“You were flirting with an eighty year old woman and I was convinced you could read my mind, so.” Which, yeah, Louis probably didn’t mean to say quite that much, but there isn’t a whole lot he can do about that now, is there?

Harry smiles a bit, clearly thrown off by Louis’ statement.

“Read minds? How so?”

“I uh,” Louis blushes and looks down, fiddling with his fingers, still not sure what to do with this damn Twix bar, “I thought you looked so--uh, yeah, and I wanted to know your name, and-”

“It’s Harry. Harry Styles.” Harry cuts in, smiling. Louis grins back.

“That’s a nice name. I’m Louis Tomlinson.” They tentatively shake hands and smile softly at each other, the awkward sense of ‘I know you know I think you’re attractive’ in the air.

“So- the mind reading thing?” Harry gently reminds him, and Louis jolts back to reality.

“Right, yeah. So anyway, I wanted to know your name because you were all--kind and sweet and funny and cute, and then like, right after I thought that, you stuck your hand out to the woman and introduced yourself to her.” Harry laughs at that, and Louis can see the bus lights at the very far end of the street, steadily moving towards them. “And so, of course I was shocked. I basically did those stupid little tests like ‘do this, do that’ and funnily enough, you did the first one.” Louis’ laughing at how ridiculous he had been yesterday, and Harry laughs right along as the bus pulls up in front of them. They both board on, Harry flashing his student card and Louis putting some change in the box.

“What did I do?” He asks as they sit down. Louis isn’t sure why they’re traveling together; Louis knows from overhearing Harry’s phone call he had been planning on going to IHOP, like Louis had been, but now he’s kind of thinking doing something daring. The word romantic flits through his mind briefly, before Louis snuffs it out. Too early for that.

“You scratched your hair, or your ear or something, I can’t remember. Scared me half to death, though, let me tell you.” They chuckle over it and settle into a comfortable silence for a moment before Harry speaks again.

“So why are you awake so early?” He asks.

“I was late to work yesterday, and so my friend from work decided to prank call me this morning and tell me I was late even though, in retrospect, I’m obviously not. So I decided to fuck it and not go back to bed.” Louis shrugs like it’s a common occurrence, which, with Niall around it practically is.

Harry looks at him with an odd expression on his face for a moment before it goes away and he smiles again, whatever that’s suppose to mean.

“My roommate was up on the phone as well this morning. Couldn’t sleep, was hungry, decided to go for some IHOP. Pancakes and bacon can never go amiss, especially with friends.”

It’s a thinly-veiled invitation, and Louis is so nervous he actually takes a bite out of his Twix bar so he doesn’t have to answer. Stress-eating has always been his first resort.

He swallows and pretends not to notice how Harry is fixated on his throat as he does so.

“I was planning on grabbing a bite and heading out to the harbor, actually.” It’s only just occurred to him, really, but it’s not like Harry knows that. The harbor would be nice to see this morning, anyways. The sunrise’ll be nice.

“The harbor?” Harry’s voice is laden with curiosity. “Bit of an interesting choice this time of year.”

Louis shrugs. “I love the water. Plus, this time of year the sky’s a lot clearer than usual, so I can see more stars than usual despite the light pollution.”

“My roommate loves the water, too. Bit fixated on it, to be honest.”

They’re silent for a few moments more, when--

“So that was a yes, right?” Harry asks. Louis scoffs a bit; this boy is so brazen and open with himself. It’s endearing.

“Dunno. Will you go lay down on a rickety wooden pier and watch the sunrise with me?”

“I like getting a bit wet, so I think I’m down.”

Harry’s smirking, and Louis takes another huge bite of his Twix. This is going to be a long morning.

* * *

“Niall, I hope you know your call this morning literally changed my life. I love you.” Louis waltzes into the break room, early for his shift for a change, and since it’s only Niall in here he decides to fuck it and start changing right there.

“A prank has you confessing your undying love for me? I should’ve woken you up at four am years ago.”

Louis laughs loudly, dropping his shirt in his backpack and changing into the polo.

“No, Nialler, that wasn’t. I--.” The situation is honestly so ridiculous that he giggles to himself, his pants dropping to the ground. “When you woke me up I couldn’t sleep, so I went out and I ran into someone?"

He’s sure the smile on his face is so dopey and love-struck. He _feels_ dopey and love-struck.

_“I’m pretty sure that’s Leo. It has to be!”_

_They’re laughing and Harry’s pointing up at the pale blue sky, heads tilted together as the ocean rocks beneath them, the pier barely moving with the motions. Their bare feet hang off the end, Harry’s toes just brushing the gentle waves and Louis’ legs sensing the small amounts of spray from where the water brushes the posts._

_“Harry, it’s five thirty. First off, the sun is up and we can’t even see any stars, and second, Leo doesn’t show in the north.”_

_“What? They’re stars, Lou, they don’t exactly move. There’s no clothes to be packed, no hat to be put on, no wife and children to say goodbye to--.”_

_“How heteronormative of you.”_

_“Shut up.”_

_“Besides, stars do move. Red shift theory and all that. Plus, we also move in terms of where we are in the solar system and in terms of relation to the sun, so naturally the placement of the stars in our sky is going to shift. Anyways, Leo is a southern hemisphere constellation, you’re gonna have to go to, like, Peru or Australia to see it.”_

_“Damn. Better book our flights now then.” Harry sighs like he’s resigned, but Louis can see he’s barely holding back a grin._

_“And what makes you think I’ll go with you just to see a constellation?”_

_He’s flirting. He’s being so obvious, but for some reason he doesn’t hardly care._

_Harry shrugs, tilts his head just right so they’re staring into each other’s eyes. The lighting from the sun is so bright, and it plays so well on Harry’s jaw line and highlights his green eyes._

_He’s gorgeous. Louis doesn’t know how long he’ll be able to resist him for._

_“Because I’m gorgeous and you can’t resist me.”_

_Louis just sighs. This is getting out of hand._

_He almost--almost, keyword--resorts to the mind reading tests again, but there’s no way it happened. Mind reading is impossible; humans have no abilities to create radio waves or any kind of extra-bodily sensors. Well, Louis’ pretty sure, anyway._

_He turns back to the sky. The clouds are golden and peach, the sky so pale and bright, and if Louis was the romantic type, he’d say it was a sign._

_“We’ll see.”_

Niall makes an interested noise.

“No shit?” Niall makes a quick job of shoving all the papers in front of him into a folder and putting his hands under his chin, batting his eyelashes. “Tell me more. Give me the hot goss.”

“You’ve been hanging out with Jesy too long, I think.” Louis tightens his belt and sits on a chair to pull his shoes back on. “I’d briefly seen him in the subway yesterday morning, and--.”

“Wait, is _that_ why you were late?” Niall laughs loudly.

“No, Jesus, why does everyone ask me that? I was already late, and _then_ I met him. Well. Watched him.” Niall guffaws, and Louis huffs. “It’s not as weird as it sounds.”

“So anyway, hot stranger on the subway, eye contact, you mysteriously met last night from my fortune and gifts, and now--.” Niall’s making motions with his hands like he’s checking things off of a list and if Niall wasn’t in a relationship with Zayn, Louis’ sure nobody would be able to resist him. He’s too cute and sweet.

Niall’s phone goes off with a string of texts, but all he does is silence it before turning to Louis.

“Yeah, so basically he told me his roommate had woken him up by being on the phone so he was hungry, and he--.” Louis laughs, “he started his conversation by handing me a half of a Twix bar and asking me to be his other half.” Niall’s phone is still lighting up with text after text, but he just turns it over so it’s face down. “And we just--we flirted and ate at IHOP because we were both hungry and then we went down to the harbor and watched the sunrise.”

Niall looks impressed.

“You took him to the harbor? Lou, that’s your favorite place besides actually being in the water.”

Louis shrugs, a bit embarrassed. He hardly takes anyone there; it’s always been somewhere for just him ever since he moved here. The beach back home was such an escape for him, laying out on the sand and finding washed up empty egg sacs and dead coral, seaweed tangling in with wood, snails on the backs of crabs and shells everywhere. There wasn’t a real beach here, not in the technical sense of the word. There was a waterfront, but no beach. The harbor had been his one solace, his one place to go to when he got overwhelmed and needed to be quiet.

He doesn’t regret taking Harry there one bit.

“So why’s your phone going nuts?” Louis tries to deflect the conversation, but Niall just gives him a look that says _this isn’t over and you know it_. But, he humors him and goes to check his phone.

“‘S my roommate.” Niall’s eyes scan through the texts before his eyebrows go so far up his forehead Louis thinks they’re gonna fly straight off and into the stratosphere.

“What? Is something wrong?”

“No, I--.” Niall cuts himself off, eyebrows coming back down and furrowing instead, and he seems intent on reading his texts very carefully. For some reason, his gaze flickers to Louis a few times, and it makes him feel unsteady.

When he’s done reading, he calmly locks his phone, sets it down, and starts laughing. It’s a short kind of astonished laugh, but it’s there so either somebody’s died and Niall’s gone insane or something hilarious has happened with his roommate.

Liam opens the door to the room, takes on look inside, sees Niall laughing like a madman and Louis looking confused as fuck.

“Has he finally cracked, then?”

Louis can only shrug in defeat.

* * *

The next morning, Louis actually wakes up on time for once. He hops in the shower, loving the fact that he has time to do this in the morning instead of late at night, like usual.. He likes to think it’s him using the ocean to wake up in a way, but it’s such a stretch it’s almost laughable. Afterwards, he spends probably a bit too long getting his face shaved just right; he’s going for a little bit of stubble, but not quite clean-shaven. He goes to do his hair and decides against it, leaving his fringe flat and soft.

He looks out the window, just to make sure he hasn’t somehow woken himself up at four am again, and then turns back to his closet.

While he rifles through the drawers for a bit, he can hear someone messing about in the kitchen, which is a first, as neither he nor Zayn can cook. Niall must be over.  

He gets out a tank top with open sleeves, showing off his sides a bit, and goes with a pair of old jeans and a beanie. He looks proper skater today, he thinks. Good look and all.

He walks out into the now silent kitchen and, as he thought, Niall and Zayn are sharing a soft, short kiss by the stove. How adorably nauseating.

“You’re gonna burn the eggs, nail file.” Louis goes about getting plates and forks out of their various hiding places in the cabinets and drawers, sighing to himself about how they really need to actually wash the dishes currently piled in the sink.

“What? Because me and Zayn are gonna do what--make out?” They all laugh at Niall’s joke, and, yeah, there are certainly pluses to rooming with an asexual. No weird, mysterious sounds coming through walls late at night, no accidental walk-ins on makeout sessions or blowjobs. It’s pleasant. Nice.

“Anyways,” Louis says as Niall portions out the eggs and bacon onto plates and Zayn pours out orange juice for everyone, “what’re you doing here? Don’t y’all both got work today?”

Zayn snorts a bit, muttering an exaggerated “ _y’all_ ” under their breath, which, fuck them, stupid Brooklyn demi-boy who doesn’t understand dialects.

“Excuse me, partner, I do believe you wanna retract your jab at me.” Louis amps up his twang a bit, chewing obnoxiously as they pretend to gag at his show.

“Whatever,” Zayn says back, and they continue eating.

“We both got work off today,” Niall says, bringing the topic back around.

“What?” Louis’ shocked. “What the fuck. I literally requested today off like two weeks ago and--are y’all the reason I can’t have a chill day?” He’s offended. This is personal.

Niall chuckles. “Probably, mate.”

Fuck both of them.

Louis pouts a bit all through breakfast, but right before he goes out the door, he checks himself once more in the hall mirror.

“Trying to look spiffy for someone special today, Lou?” Niall calls out to him, grin splitting his face like he’s got a secret.

Louis blushes a bit.

“Not really. I mean. I guess, a bit.” He shrugs, hoping to play it off. “Why?”

Niall shrugs back.

“No reason.”

* * *

Louis doesn’t think about the fact that Harry may not even be on this train until he’s at the station.

He’d been late the first day he’d seen him and had gone on the wrong train; what if that was Harry’s usual train? What if Harry didn’t even ride the subway normally? Shit, he doesn’t even have his _number_. This is such a bust.

He gets on the train, sullenly, and then locks eyes with the prettiest boy on earth. Harry greets him with a huge smile, immediately moving over to sit next to him.

“Thought you weren’t gonna show up.” He teases, moving just that much closer to Louis’ arm, the heat feeling amazing.

“Of course I would. Couldn’t miss you, babe.”

They’re totally flirting. He loves it. He loves that he gets to see Harry today, loves that he gets to hear him laugh, see him smile.

Harry just bites his lips on his grin. He’s gone all out on his outfit again; tight pants with these great sparkly boots on, a tight black shirt hugging his muscles and shit, but does this boy have tattoos. He has an impeccable taste in style, and it certainly shows off everything Harry has to offer.

“Like what you’re wearing, today.” Harry murmurs to him, his voice gone low.

“You too.” Louis’ voice has done the same and he blinks slowly, knowing how it makes him look. Harry’s hand noticeably tightens its grip on his thigh, and Louis just wishes it were on his own, to feel the strength of it. “Didn’t know you had tattoos. They’re nice.”

“Could say the same about you. Why’ve you been hiding them?” Harry’s gaze follows down Louis’ bicep, down the stag to the compass.

“It’s just been a bit cold, I guess. I’ve been living here ages, and yet the winter always seems to take me by surprise. Don’t get much colder ‘n about forty degrees back home, but up here it’s anyone’s game. Decided to brave it today.”

Harry looks back up to his face.

“Where’re you from, then? I never asked.”

“Chesapeake. It’s in Virginia, right below Virginia Beach.”

Harry nods thoughtfully for a moment, and then, “That near the Navy Base?”

“Yeah. The biggest base on the east coast is in Norfolk, which isn’t too far from home, just about forty-five minutes or lesser, depending on which part of Chesapeake you’re coming from.” Louis’ said this often enough; nobody hardly knows where his city is, which is just fine by him. It’s boring as fuck, anyhow.

“Went down there for a field trip once, I think, in middle school.”

And so the conversation goes.

Harry grew up in Maryland, actually, which is a bit of a surprise for Louis. Turns out his parents are from West Virginia, though, which would explain the shy hint of an accent pulling through his words. He’s in college, is a senior this year, which makes Louis feel great; he’d been entertaining the thought that Harry was a cocky freshman for a bit, but this has quelled his nerves. He’s an art major, does a lot of photography and painting, has a motorcycle that his roommate uses a lot. Owns a gold, sparkly helmet to match a pair of gold boots he has.

Louis doesn’t want to leave and stop talking to Harry when his stop comes by, but he leaves with a number and a text consisting of three lines of every single heart emoji that exists, plus two lines of sparkle emojis.

It’s a successful day.

* * *

“Louis, Paul needs to see you about Sandy.”

Lou pokes her head into the lab for a moment before walking away quickly again. He nods to where she just was out of force of habit, cleans up and sets to start another round of tests, but so far everything’s pointing to marine ich. They’ll need to check their filters again to make sure the parasites are killed properly and get Sandy some copper to help. They may need to disinfect the tank with something, although Louis isn’t sure what that could be; they need to be careful not to upset the balance of anything in that tank.

When he goes to see Paul, he just confirms everything Louis’ been thinking.

“You’re right, bud, she’s definitely got it; was probably from those nets we found her in. Usually doesn’t stay dormant this long, but she’s got ‘em. Little white spots all along her gills and under her fins, poor gal.” His voice is sad, and Louis gets worried very fast.

“We can just put use copper, though, right? To kill the parasites?”

Paul shrugs.

“Marine ich is fast and deadly. We caught it quick, and I’ve gotten her started on some copper solutions and I’ve gotten her in her own tank so we can regulate the salinity and such, but it’s gonna take a few weeks. You know we’ll do the best we can, but sometimes...”

Louis nods. It’s hard, working with animals who can get sick so easily, but he’s just glad they’re good at their jobs.

* * *

Seeing Harry every day has, almost a bit too literally, become the reason he gets up in the morning. He’s finally on a great schedule, never misses his train, takes all of his showers in the morning, does the dishes, cleans the bathroom and, alright, maybe the last two things are because Harry’s coming over for dinner. Maybe. Just a _little_ bit.

He’s successfully kicked Zayn and Niall out of the apartment for the night, thank God, and he stares at the wide array of ingredients that now lay on his kitchen counter. Chicken, potatoes, ham, mozzarella, garlic, fresh green beans, butter, salt and pepper. Honestly, this is going to be the best thing he’s ever done in his entire life.

Plus, he looks fucking _hot_. He’s gone for the soft look again, with a white tee and some jeans and Toms that he hasn’t worn in ages.

There’s a knock on the door and Louis opens it with a smile.

“Hey,” Louis says just as Harry pulls him into a hug. He gets a noseful of curls, but Harry doesn’t appear to use any scented products so the smell he gets is all Harry. It’s not too bad.

“Hey, yourself.” Harry’s got a few grocery bags in his hands, which, no.

“I told you I was cooking tonight.” He protests, even as Harry walks straight through to the kitchen like he owns the place and sets his stuff on the counter-tops.

“Yeah, well, I wanted to surprise you with dessert, so. I’m making some lemon cookie no bake tarts.”

Louis almost laughs.

“No bake lemon tarts? What is this, Masterchef?”

Harry pouts.

“I tried out last year, I’ll have you know. Got in to see the judges and everything. Joe Bastianich even liked it.”

“No shit,” Louis’ mouth is dropped open wide, “Joe hates everything. What the hell did you cook him?”

“Beef milanese. Said it was good, but Chefs Graham and Gordon thought it was a bit too undercooked and underseasoned. Eh,” Harry shrugs as he goes back to cooking.

“Are you having me on?” Louis has to ask. There’s no way that Harry fucking Styles actually auditioned for Masterchef and got Joe fucking Bastianich to enjoy his food.

Harry turns around with a mad grin.

“Maybe just a little.”

“You shit!” Louis throws a towel at him and they both laugh.

“Seriously, I can bake up a storm no problem, it’s the savory bits I have troubles with. Can’t seem to understand the difference between rosemary and thyme, even though I’m sure there must be one.” Harry shrugs as he pulls out cookie crumbs and sugar.

“A crumb crust? Those are my favorite.” Louis may be easily impressed, but he’s so excited about it.

Harry smiles at him.

“I’m glad.”

They work together seamlessly, Louis putting the chicken in to bake just as Harry puts the tarts into the fridge to cool down.  They turn on the television and, of course, there’s Gordon Ramsay yelling at poor Ben how horrible his dish is. They have a good laugh over it and continue watching.

“Season two’s my favorite season, I think.” Harry mentions, nodding to the screen.

“Why?” Louis’ never really felt any pull towards one season or another, although he can see why some people do.

“The contestants seem to enjoy each other’s company in this season than in any other. They’re like a family.”

“Besides Christian and Jennifer, you mean?” Louis asks, smirking.

“Yes, besides Christian and Jennifer.” Harry chuckles.

An episode later, the timer on the oven goes off and Louis sets the table.

“So, Louis, please present us your dish.” Harry’s laughing all through this, the asshole, but Louis decides to entertain him.

“Well, Harry, today I’ve prepared for you a lovely dish of dark chicken breast, stuffed with mozzarella, seared quickly, then wrapped in parma ham and baked. We’ve also got mashed potatoes with a bit of garlic added, just to get that bit of kick behind it, and the gravy is made from the white meat of the chicken. There’s also some quick pan cooked green beans, and when you bite into them, they should be crunchy and delicious and seasoned perfectly.”

Harry eyes the plate appropriately, and they dig in.

He’s never had so much fun with someone before. It’s addicting.

The chicken makes Harry moan in a delightfully filthy way and it sends shivers running down Louis’ spine; he wants to know what Harry would sound like with his cock in Louis’ ass.

Which--is a thought that kind of springs out of nowhere and now he’s getting hard on a maybe, kind of date with the hottest boy that has ever existed. But, it’s happened and there’s no taking it back now.

Harry seems to take notice of the way Louis is fidgeting in his seat and asks if he’s feeling alright.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Louis nods at him. He’s just gotten hard at the dinner table. He eyes the way Harry’s massive hands hold the small fork, how his fingers wrap around it, how his tongue darts out to grab the chicken off the fork just before his mouth wraps around it.

He’s getting _turned on_ by someone _eating_. He’s officially reached a new low.

“Sure? Seem a bit distracted.” Harry has no idea.

Louis forces himself to turn back to his food, continuing to eat and he’s happy with how it turned out, honest, he just can’t concentrate on it; not when Harry keeps shifting his legs around and Louis can only imagine what he would look like with his legs spread, Louis in between them. It’s mouth watering.

“Maybe I’m dehydrated.” Louis lies, taking a swig of water. Harry’s eyebrows furrow and he immediately reaches a hand out, moving his hair aside and laying the back of his hand across Louis’ forehead.

He’s--he’s checking him for a fever. His immediate response to Louis saying he’s not feeling well is to check on him thoroughly and, God, is there a sweeter boy out there?

“You don’t feel too sick.” Harry moves his hand around, pressing against different parts of his forehead, checking different heat levels or whatever the fuck. “A bit hot, but I don’t think it’s from a fever.”

And that part is definitely Harry making fun of him.

Louis huffs and pulls his head away, messing with this hair until it lays just right, and he ducks his head to hide his hot cheeks.

Louis goes about collecting their dishes when they’re done, the conversation somehow having been steered away from his not-fever and towards music.

Harry’s getting his tarts out of the fridge when he says, “I’m friends with Ed Sheeran actually,” like it’s something that should be common knowledge.

“Haha, very funny. I’m not falling for that again.” Louis rolls his eyes and forces himself to wash the dishes while Harry’s still setting up the desserts, putting fresh fruit on top to give it an extra oomph.

“No, I’m serious this time! I met him just as he was starting out; he crashed on my friend Grimmy’s couch and was there for a few weeks so we got to know each other well, and then he made it big.” At Louis’ scoff of disbelief, he pulls out his phone and scrolls through the pictures.

“Proof.” Harry says smugly, handing it over.

There’s about twenty pictures in a row of Harry and Ed together; them making duck faces, them making peace signs, them standing side by side in a park, Ed playing with somebody’s dog, and finally--

“Is Ed Sheeran giving you a _tattoo_?” Louis’ shocked, clearly.

Harry nods, rolling up his sleeve to show it off.

“What the hell.” Louis mutters; this is too much. Harry is too much.

When Louis finally gets a bite into his fruit tart and it’s everything he could have imagined it being, he thinks to himself, _I want to know everything about him_.

It only scares him a little bit. Maybe that means he’s growing.

* * *

Louis knocks on Paul’s door a few days later until he hears Paul tell him to come in.

“Hey, Paul. I was just wondering how Sandy’s pulling through?” Louis bites his lips as he asks; he’s been dying to know how she’s handling everything, the poor girl, but he’s also felt like if he asks he’ll jinx it. Luckily, Niall told him to ask Paul, so hopefully nothing bad will come out of this.

Paul looks up to him with an even expression, which is a hopefully good sign.

“She’s been pulling through pretty well, Louis. She’s really brave and strong and I think we’ll power through it.” He stands up from his chair and goes over to his filing cabinet, pulling out a file. “This is Sandy’s, actually, if you want to take a quick look at it.”

Relief washes over Louis almost instantly.

He looks over her chart thoroughly, seeing how she’s steadily been breathing better and eating more and being just generally more energetic which, thank _God_.

When he leaves, there’s a huge weight off of his shoulders and a text in his pocket that reads _maybe my place next time?_ and if Louis were a romantic, he’d take Sandy’s health as a sign.

* * *

The outfits, Louis has noticed, have become a Thing.

Every time they see each other, whether it be on the subway or on (what Louis vehemently denies to anyone as) dates, they’re dressed better and more fashionably than the last time. Aviators, necklaces, rings, Vans, torn jeans, biker tanks, sweaters, Hawaiian shirts- they’re all thrown into the mix and everything is game.

Louis knows what his intentions behind dressing nicely for Harry are; he wants to show off how he looks, and it’s some kind of weird, bizarre mating ritual, according to Zayn.

He can’t quite tell if Harry’s making fun of him or not, though, by dressing up so nicely as well. There was that one time on Louis’ birthday where Harry had shown up in a ruffled dress shirt and black dress pants, demanding to take Louis out on the town, and they had gone for some little Italian place that certainly didn’t require the clothes Harry was in.

But, nonetheless, it’s become a Thing.

He likes it. It’s promising.

* * *

Louis’ messing around on his phone, texting Harry while also trying to finish up this eight-hour event in his game he’d forgotten about until ten minutes ago and now only has twenty minutes to complete, when he gets some of the worst news of his day.

“Louis, Ashton called out sick, you’re on docent duty for the reef tank today.”

“Dude, seriously?” He calls out at Liam’s quickly retreating form. Honestly, he hates doing that job; nobody ever comes up to ask him questions anymore due to the interactive screen display the kids can play on. Which, not to knock on technology because he’s played around on that display quite often and it’s great, but he feels so useless and bored whenever he’s there.

He sighs deeply, texting Harry a quick _sorry i g2g :((( cant wait to see u tonight!!_ and goes to change out of his non-skid shoes to some dress shoes he keeps in his locker for only this reason.

A buzz on his phone indicates Harry’s replied, and fast, too. Shouldn’t he be in class?

_awww okay!! im just doing some drawing, practicing how to do lighting and stuff. lots of water here, thinking of you :)_

Louis smiles down at his screen in a way he’s sure is obnoxious, but he doesn’t care. Harry’s looking at water and thinking about him; his heart has officially melted.

He walks through the hallways until he gets to the end, opening the door and stepping out into the display halls. He continues until he reaches where he needs to be, texts Niall a quick message telling him he’s shown up to replace Ashton, and goes to stand off to the side next to the tank. He sees Cal off on the other side, speaking to some parents so he’s not sure why he’s here if Cal already is, but whatever.

He’s there for about five minutes when he sees him.

He’s sitting there, paper pad in his lap as his pencil moves so fluidly across it, and Louis is sure his mouth drops.

Louis’ sure he’s a romantic, now. This _has_ to be a sign.

The lighting is dim, but even from this far away, the way the light reflects off the water and onto Harry’s face is striking; the light moves up and down and side to side, casting shadows every which way across his jaw, curls, and his soft green eyes.

Louis moves across the room quickly, plopping down next to him, and Harry turns to him with a shocked expression.

“Louis!” Harry’s smiling widely, dropping his pencil and pad before hugging him tightly.

“Hey, Haz.” Harry’s looking him up and down and notices the insignia on the pocket of Louis’ shirt.

“I had no idea you worked here.” Harry looks like it’s his birthday all over again, despite it being a few days past. That had been a fun day full of music and mojitos and dancing. If Louis moves his thigh just right, he can still feel the pull of it from when he’d pulled it dancing for too long. He should probably exercise more often.

“Yeah, well. I do. But did you really pay thirty dollars just to come in and draw light off of water? You could go out to the harbor and do that just fine.”

“Well, I couldn’t, actually, because this is about how light filters through water more than reflections, I guess. Also, my roommate got me in for free. Do you know Niall?”

Louis stills and his eyes narrow.

That. Fucking. Shit.

“Niall is your roommate? You’re the roommate he refuses to let me meet? What the fuck.”

A whole lot of things make sense, now. Niall’s grins and laughs and teasing about Harry. Sending him here today. He is _such_ a shit.

“He wouldn’t let you meet me?” Harry laughs. “That’s so weird. I didn’t know that. Sorry, I guess?”

Louis just kind of sighs.

“Me neither. But he’s been such a shit to me lately about you, y’know, like he’s known something, and I guess now I know why.”

“You’ve been talking about me?” Harry’s smirking at him now and Louis bashfully looks at the ground, feeling like he’s been caught doing something. He kind of has been, though.

“Yeah, a bit.”

“I’ll ask Niall what you’ve been saying about me.” Harry picks up his pencil and paper and goes to a new, fresh page; he begins with sketching an ovular shape with something protruding off of it.

“That doesn’t look very watery to me.” He’s totally neglecting his duties right now, but as he’s about ninety-nine percent sure him being here is Niall’s master scheme and not his actual job, he’s probably fine. Most likely.

Harry shifts so he can no longer see the sketch pad.

“That’s because it isn’t water.”

Louis just shrugs; Harry came here to work, so he’ll let him be.

He turns his attention back to the tank, and smiles so wide when he sees Sandy swim along, happy and adjusted back to the community. It had been touch and go for a while, but they’d caught it soon enough and treated it thoroughly enough she’s recovered well.

“You look beautiful when you smile, y’know.” Harry says, like it’s something casual. Louis’ sure he’s so blushing ten shades of red right now.

“Shut up,” He’s trying hard to cover up his smile, but if the way Harry’s grinning is any indication, he’s not doing a very good job of it.

Minutes pass by, children excitedly pointing at animals and playing around with each other, and he feels so... _happy_. Content on just being there with Harry. Niall was an annoying matchmaker, but he got the job done.

“All done.” Harry says proudly, holding up the sketch pad like a trophy before handing it over to Louis.

He stares at it in awe. It really isn’t water at all; it’s Louis and how the light shines off of him.

He strokes soft fingers over where his jaw meets his neck in the drawing; it’s amazing. The technique is flawless.

“Thought this was a study on light filtration, not reflection.” Louis’ voice is quiet, soft, reverent. He can’t believe Harry’s actually done this of him, _for him_.

“I am assigned that study, yes, but this,” Harry’s hand brushes his hair, and he shivers at the contact, “was all for me.” His voice is similarly quiet.

“D’you mean that?” He asks quickly, quietly. He can’t look away from the drawing, from how he looks through Harry’s eyes.

There’s the barest of brushes of lips to his cheek and all the breath leaves him.

“I mean that.” Harry whispers back.

Louis steels himself, and then turns to Harry. His curls are pushed aside and out of his face so there’s nothing blocking him from making complete eye contact.

“Go out with me.” He exhales and the way Harry smiles at him so fast is all the answer he needs before their lips are touching and they’re making out in front of the shark tank.

It’s so electrifying; sparks are running down his spine where Harry’s fingers dance along it and his minds almost blanked out, focused only on the places Harry is touching him. His mouth is wild, his back on fire, his neck seared. It is, hands down, the best kiss he’s ever had in his entire life.

* * *

The clothes, thankfully, are still a Thing.

Valentine’s Day is a great holiday; heavily capitalized and homophobic, yes, but a great holiday nonetheless.

Louis and Harry, comfortable now in their place as boyfriends (officially), decide on going to that same IHOP as all those months ago. And just to think, if it weren’t for Niall’s stupid, terrible prank call, he may not have met Harry ever again. Or the fact that due to Niall teasing him about his outfits, Louis might not have felt so spurned on to wear them. Or if Niall hadn’t put him out as docent for the reef tank, he would never have gotten the guts to ask him out.

Or, well, he should rephrase that. He would have met Harry, he would have spoken to him, and they would have ended up here anyway, it just would have been a bit different. There is no world where Louis and Harry are not together.

Naturally, when Louis and Harry meet up at the doors in front of the IHOP, they’re wearing the same exact outfit, down to the shoes.

They’re wearing a loose white tee (well, loose on Louis and a normal fit on Harry), jeans, Aviators, and Vans.

It’s hilarious, but they have a decent laugh and a kiss about it, and proceed to stuff their faces with pancakes. The waitress teases them about their clothes and asks why they’d planned to wear the same outfit on Valentine’s Day, and refused to believe they hadn’t planned it. She’d given them free hot chocolates, though, so all is forgiven.

They share sweet kisses and make love in Louis’ bed that night, for the first time. It’s amazing and beautiful, just like Harry.

And despite Louis kind of really hating cities, he can say one good thing about them: thank God for subways.

**Author's Note:**

> I somehow ended up writing Louis as from my hometown doing my dream job, even if i'd prefer mollusks over cartilaginous fish any day. Also, they didn't end up doing a lot of subway-ing in this, but I hope you've enjoyed it anyway :) I loved writing it so much!!


End file.
